Page 43 of Madness

His heated gaze tracked down from my face to the minimal cleavage the dress displayed. I saw him linger at the pulse in my neck that was beating rapidly.

“I’ve never lied to you, little dove.” He took another bite of his food. I tried not to look at his lips as he did.

“Maddox, I can’t sit here in silence; it’s driving me crazy. Can’t we talk or something? Get to know each other.”

He gave me a sly smile. “You want to know more about me?”

My heart rate ticked up at the look on his face. It was calculating like he’d lead me directly down the path he’d planned. But it also lit me up. He was too handsome for his own good. Too beautiful to be this sinister.

“No.” I said firmly. Even though I did want to get to know him. I wanted to pretend it was because knowing him would help me fight against him, but I was also just curious. Curious about a man who I knew was evil but had also saved me. Who caused me pain and forced me to his will. But didn’t want anyone else to hurt me.

It was a disconcerting mix that set me on edge. I never knew what he was going to do. Or why.

“You can ask me anything.” His voice was smooth, but it felt like it was cutting deep under my skin.

“Anything?” I could hear the eagerness in my voice.

“I’ll give you five questions.” He smiled. Of fucking course. I rolled my eyes. Why did I think for a second he wasn’t playing with me? That he would actually let me know him.

“Fine.” I grumbled as I shoved food in my mouth. It was even more delicious than the last meal we had. It was definitely a perk to coming here. One less meal I had to buy myself or skip.

I should have asked what he planned to do with me after dinner. Or how often I was expected to come here. Or when he would let me go. Instead, I found myself curious about him.

“How did you get into this life?” I looked at his handsome face while he answered. Trying to read his expression.

“My father is the head of the family.” He answered easily, but there was something behind his eyes.

“You don’t like him.”

“There are few people I do like.” I believed that. He probably wasn’t capable of liking anyone. It felt like life was a chess game to him, and we were all just pieces.

“Who do you like?” I hated that my stomach twisted. Hated that I wanted him to say me. I shouldn’t want anything for him, especially not his attention.

“My sister.” I saw the flick in his eyes. The… emotion. It wasn’t quite love. But I did believe he cared for her. “Alessandra. She’s twenty. Too kind for this life.”

“It’s good she has you to look after her.”

I wondered what my life would’ve been like if I’d had a sibling. If I had someone to watch my back. Help me care for our mother. Help with bills. Someone to confide in.

But it was useless to wonder. I didn’t have those things. I was alone.

I cleared my throat, trying to shove down the emotions that had suddenly swamped me. “And your mother? Is she a part of the Mafia too?”

His expression darkened. Most wouldn’t have noticed it. I had the advantage of reading faces. I was also focused on him. I shouldn’t be paying this close attention. I should go back to ignoring him. But now I was interested. Who was his mother, and why did he seem to hate her even more than his father?

“Dead.” His voice didn’t betray any emotions. Like he felt nothing at her death. Maybe he did, but I doubted it. Everyone felt something when an important figure in your life died. Even if it was relief.

“I’m sorry.” I said with genuine emotion. He might be cold, but I wasn’t. I could empathize even with this demon. “How did she die?”

He rolled his crystal glass around the table like he was considering whether or not to answer my question. I knew he wouldn’t lie. He could, however, evade me. Not answer the question or direct his rage at me. I took the risk. Information was worth it. At least for now.

“My father killed her.” My chest squeezed even though he didn’t seem hurt by this. He took a sip of his drink before continuing. “In front of me. When I was ten.”

Without meaning to, I reached out and grabbed his hand. His fingers were warm, as if he really was a demon living off of flames and heat. I curled my fingers around his and squeezed. Trying to show with my touch what I couldn’t with my words.

Was this why he was how he was? Cold. Ruthless. A killer. Had he been born this way, or did he adapt to survive this life? Who would I have been if I didn’t have a sweet mother that had shielded me from the evils of the world?

I believe people were born with certain traits. Maddox was likely born with less emotion than the rest of us. But maybe he could’ve changed if he’d had a mother like mine. Maybe he could still change. Maybe he could… feel.